‘A sweetie, Oliver,’ she says again. ‘I’m not sure that’s a word most girls would use about their boyfriend.’

Sophia’s so much better at this than me. I can’t resist talking about her, but, even with Miss Morgan catching her off guard, she’s maintained the facade that there’s nothing between us. It is, of course, safer that way.

‘I think I should go home,’ I tell her. ‘I’m really not feeling good.’

Her expression is filled with sorrow. She lays a hand on my arm. ‘Perhaps hold on just a few more minutes. If you’re still suffering, you can go then.’

‘I should go now.’

‘Just a few minutes?’

How long have I been here? Four minutes, maybe five? There isn’t a clock to check, but it’s been no longer than that. I’m good for time.

‘I’m just going to refill my teacup,’ she says. ‘You can play something now if you like,’ she adds as she extracts herself from her chair.

I’ll play something quickly. It seems an appropriate way to sign off our last lesson together. The music stand above the keys is empty. ‘Have you got that Debussy score we did last week?’

‘We didn’t play Debussy last week, Oliver. You and I duetted some blues for the last five minutes, that was all. You were playing nicely. Remember?’

‘Week before then.’

She shakes her head. ‘That was the lesson when you’d hurt your hand and couldn’t play very much at all. Remember that? We haven’t played anything from a score for months and months.’

This isn’t true but I’m not about to debate it.

‘Play me a little Ray Charles if you like. Just by ear. It does you good.’

I wait for her to disappear into the kitchen. I’m just a few metres from the closed door at the top of the stairs. I could duck out right now – she wouldn’t see. But just disappearing doesn’t feel right. And she might come after me. Fixing her tea will take barely a minute. She said I can go then.

‘“Georgia on My Mind” perhaps,’ she calls out. ‘You always play it so beautifully.’

I lay my hands on the keyboard. It’s in G. Or maybe F. It hardly matters. I lean my foot on the sustain pedal, shadowing the opening notes with my fingers. I hear the rattle of teaspoon on bone china from the other room.

Three more minutes. And then I must be out of here.

2.48 p.m.